


Unwanted Relief

by Tarash



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Community: spn-kinkmeme, Forced Erection, Forced Orgasm, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rape/Non-con Elements, Tied-Up Dean, dirtybadwrong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-25
Updated: 2015-01-25
Packaged: 2018-03-09 00:46:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3229904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarash/pseuds/Tarash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From the kinkmeme prompt from 2009: "Dean/Alastair, dub-con/non-con. As dirty wrong as you wanna get. Voyeur!Sam would be a plus."</p><p>Alastair has got Dean tied up, and does what he has to do to get Dean's body to react in the way he wants it to before Sam comes in to rescue his brother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unwanted Relief

"Not so tough now, are you? Without your guardian angels to watch over you," Alastair tells him, and he smirks.  
  
Dean's not entirely sure how it happened, one moment he was torturing Alastair, trying to get info from him, the other moment Alastair has broken free, a fight has broken loose, and Dean himself has been whisked away by Alastair. He remembers Sam was there, and wasn’t that a fun revelation. His little brother was probably there long enough to know what Dean had been doing to Alastair earlier. That was not a talk he looked forward to having with Sam.  
  
Still, at the moment he's tied to a table, straps over his chest, arms and legs, so it's not like that talk is going to happen any time soon.  
  
Dean stares him straight in the eye. "Do your worst, you son of a bitch." He's not going to give Alastair the satisfaction of breaking, besides, Sam and Castiel will come to his rescue. It's just a matter of holding out until then. "What'll it be, huh? Knives? Hooks?"  
  
Alastair chuckles. "Oh, Dean," he says, and tuts. "My boy, that's why you're not nearly as good as I am. No creativity. It's all about the physical torture with you, isn't it? Don't you know that psychological torture is just as effective?" He grabs Dean's knee, and his hand slowly slides upwards.  
  
"What the hell are you doing?" Dean asks, and tries to wriggle his leg out of the way, but Alastair's got him tied down firmly. "Get your hands off me!"  
  
"That's not your choice to make, Dean." Alastair takes his hand off Dean for a moment, to grab something from a nearby table. Dean can see it's a sharp knife, and he's almost relieved, because at least that's something Alastair has done to him before.  
  
He's preparing himself for the first cut, the first slice, or maybe Alastair's going to stab him, but none of that comes. Instead, Alastair hums to himself as he starts to cut Dean's clothes from his body, and actually takes the time to undo his laces before taking off his shoes and socks. The straps are still digging into his chest, arms and legs, and it hurts more without the protective layers of his clothes.  
  
Once Alastair is done and Dean is completely naked, Alastair looks him up and down with a satisfied smirk. "You're an all-American boy, aren't you, Dean?" he says. "A beer drinking, sports watching, womanising, gun carrying all-American boy."  
  
"What does that have to do with anything?" Dean asks, trying not to show how nervous he is. What the hell does Alastair have planned for him?  
  
Alastair doesn't immediately answer. Instead, he unties Dean's legs a little, and while Dean does his best to wriggle out and kick the other man, Alastair is too strong, and once he's done, Dean is still tied down to the table, but now with his legs spread as far as they can, and they're now tied to the table legs. Dean's beginning to get a inkling of what Alastair's got planned. "You sick fuck," he says. "You sick bastard."  
  
Alastair smirks, climbs up the table and leans over Dean on all fours. "It's so easy, Dean. So easy to figure out the common fear all you good all-American boys have."  
  
Dean continues to struggle as Alastair starts to stroke him. The bastard is actually being gentle as he caresses Dean's chest and the inside of his thighs. "Get your hands off me!" Dean shouts.  
  
Alastair chuckles. "And I thought you might like some foreplay." He stops touching Dean, and any relief Dean might've felt is short-lived, because Alastair undoes his belt and buttons, and lowers his trousers and underwear to reveal that he's already half hard. Dean gulps at the idea of what's about to happen.  
  
"Can't get your jollies any other way, huh?" Dean says. "What, none of the demon chicks want to bang you? Don't tell me they've got standards."  
  
Alastair stares at him, then removes his belt from his trousers. He whips it in the air once, a loud crack that makes Dean wince a little, and then he brings it down hard on Dean's chest, and Dean grits his teeth and grunts but doesn't shout. "Still have an attitude problem, I see," Alastair says, and then wraps a hand around Dean's limp dick.

Dean's about to sneer that there's no way he's gonna get it up for Alastair, not without a date first, but then he's shocked to find that his dick is slowly getting hard. "Stop that!" he shouts, as much at Alastair as at his dick.  
  
"I love the reflexes of the human body, don't you?" Alastair says, stroking Dean's dick until it's hard, and continues to stroke it slowly. "I think you're going to have a very educational afternoon."  
  
"What good will this do to you?" Dean asks. "We're not in hell, I don't have any info you need, what do you want?"  
  
"I want to hurt you, Dean," Alastair tells him. "Isn't that obvious? And demons aren't above the pleasure of the flesh, you know." He stresses his words with a little twist of his hand on Dean's dick. "And your pain is my pleasure." He smirks, and then takes his hand off Dean.  
  
Dean's about to blow out a sigh of relief, but then Alastair uses one hand to spread his ass, and the other one to aim his own hard dick at Dean's asshole, and Dean starts to struggle again, anything to get away from this, but it's not easy and Alastair holds him down at his hips. "This'll be so much easier if you stop resisting, Dean."  
  
Dean's not planning on stopping any time soon, and he's not going to make this easier for Alastair either. He doesn't deserve the satisfaction, even if Dean's scared out of his mind. He sees Alastair grab the belt while he's got his other arm on Dean's hips, and he watches as Alastair raises the belt, and then there's pain like he never even imagined as the leather is brought down on his balls. Dean wants to throw up from the pain, and curl up in a ball and never do anything but lie still like that forever, but Alastair's got the belt raised again. "Do I have to do that again, Dean, or will you lie still this time?"  
  
Dean's stopped struggling, but only because he's uselessly trying to bring his legs together. "Screw you," he manages to get out as he's trying to control his breathing.  
  
Alastair brings down the belt again, and Dean screams and tries to curl up as a reflex, and a foggy part of him is pleased to notice that at least his dick is getting with the program and has gone limp. He lies still for a moment, trying to focus on his breathing until the pain has subsided. He can get through this. He’s survived Hell, he can get through this.  
  
Alastair has taken advantage of Dean’s momentary stillness to spread his ass again, and has lined up his dick with Dean’s asshole, and is slowly starting to push in. Dean shouts at that, and tries to wriggle away, but Alastair’s holding him down by his hips, and now that his dick is in, it’s useless. “Relax, Dean,” Alastair tells him with a twisted smile. “No reason why it can’t be fun for you too.” He pushes further into Dean, and Dean feels as if he’s being torn apart from the inside, and this must be what it’s like for those poor bastards who were drawn and quartered and had their limbs torn apart by four horses. He hates the fact that tears are in his eyes from the pain, and he rapidly blinks them away, but Alastair has noticed as he continues to push into Dean. “Crying because I’m taking your virginity, Dean? It’s okay, I’ll still respect you in the morning.”  
  
“Fuck you,” Dean says, and he can’t come up with anything else to say, the pain’s too much.  
  
Alastair just laughs. “I’m not into that, Dean.” He shoves into Dean even more until he can’t go any further.  
  
Dean’s biting down on the inside of his cheek to keep himself from shouting or swearing. He can handle this. The pain’s already subsiding, he’s not going to die because of this, he’ll be fine and then he can kill Alastair.  
  
He’s cheering himself up with thoughts of how exactly he’s going to kill Alastair, when Alastair wraps a hand around Dean’s dick, and despite the pain and the fact that Dean doesn’t want this, it gets hard regardless after a few strokes. “Does that worry you, Dean?” Alastair asks. “That a part of you likes this? That a part of you likes being tied down and fucked?”  
  
“It’s not me,” Dean mutters, assuring himself. Alastair himself said earlier it was a reflex of his body, and he’s been through puberty, he knows that sometimes getting an erection has nothing to do with thinking about sex, sometimes they just happen. “You’re the only sick fuck here.”

Alastair laughs, and pulls out a little only to push right back in, repeating it until he’s found himself a rhythm, and he’s still slowly stroking Dean’s dick.  
  
The worst of it is that the pain is slowly subsiding, it’s slowly getting less and there’s some pleasure from having his dick stroked, even if it is by Alastair.  
  
“Do you want Sam to save you now?” Alastair asks, his breathing getting faster. “Or your angels? Do you want them to see you like this? Watch you be humiliated and fucked like a cheap whore?”  
  
“They’ll kill you,” Dean promises him. “I’ll kill you, you sick, twisted son of a bitch!”  
  
“Of course you are, Dean, of course you are,” Alastair says, and he smiles smugly. There’s a sudden noise coming from outside the room, and Alastair’s clearly startled. Not that this stops him from fucking Dean, but it’s good to see that Alastair isn’t in control as much as he’d like. “I think your cavalry’s about to arrive,” Alastair says, and speeds up his rhythm, making the pain worse again, and Dean grits his teeth. He can hold out a little longer.  
  
The noise is coming closer, and Alastair shows no sign of stopping in order to attack whoever’s coming. He does, however, grab the knife he used earlier to cut Dean’s clothes.  
  
The door bursts open, and it’s Sam, armed and angry. “Dean!” he exclaims, and his eyes widen as he takes in the scene before him.  
  
“Hello, Sam,” Alastair says, and he grunts as he fucks Dean harder. “So glad you could join us.”  
  
“Get away from him, you sick freak,” Sam says, aiming the shotgun at Alastair. “Get off that table.”  
  
Alastair ignores him, instead opting to fuck Dean faster, harder, and deeper than he did before, and the hand stroking Dean’s dick speeds up too. “Shoot him, Sam!” Dean shouts, trying to ignore the pain. “Shoot the fucking bastard!”  
  
Alastair leans forward to hold the knife at Dean’s throat. “You do that, I’ll slice your throat,” he says.  
  
Dean gulps. “Do it, Sam! Kill the son of a bitch!” He glances at Sam, and can see the shock and the worry in his little brother’s face, the way his eyes are darting between Alastair’s face and the knife at Dean’s throat.  
  
Alastair’s hand is still stroking his dick and pulling it a little, and Dean’s the most surprised of all when he’s actually coming, a sticky mess erupting from his dick and landing on his stomach. Alastair’s laughter turns to a groan as the demon comes inside him.  
  
Somehow, this has unfrozen Sam, because he starts to shoot at Alastair, and while he gets in some shots, a black cloud of smoke rises out of his mouth and goes up through the ceiling.  
  
Alastair’s host has already lost consciousness and falls off the table and on the floor, dead.  
  
Dean can’t even meet Sam’s eyes as he starts to untie him.


End file.
